Dette Huset
by AnotherConstellationDies.x
Summary: Eventually, in 1905, when their union ended they went their separate ways, and this house stood empty.


**Wrote this for a competition on dA. Wooooo. **

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><p>A few months into their union, and it became apparent that Norway was not happy. It was not anything Sweden had done. It was something Sweden could not help, and eventually Sweden managed to wrangle it out of him, one night when Norway had had too much to drink.<p>

Norway missed his country, stuck in Stockholm as he was. He missed Norway's fjords and rolling hills and valleys. He missed the waves crashing against the cliffs, he missed the barren landscapes of the mountains. Sweden was nice enough, but he didn't feel at home. Stockholm was too far east, too far away from where his heart longed to be.

Sweden knew he could not allow Norway to leave; he could not allow him to move back to Kristiania. Norway could visit his country when he wanted to, but Norway's business was now Sweden's business, and it needed to be conducted from Stockholm, or thereabouts.

Eventually, Sweden decided on a compromise, and he suggested they relocate a little closer to Norway. And so, Sweden had a house built around 10 miles outside of Charlottenberg, a town close to the Swedish-Norwegian border. It was small, too small to be able to facilitate the both of them the whole year through, but Sweden was able to comfortably conduct his business from there, and Norway was now able to wander into his territory whenever he wanted, every day if he wanted to.

Both of them were reasonably happy with it, and the union continued.

And eventually, in 1905, when their union ended they went their separate ways, and the house stood empty.

Around fifteen years later, when the world around him was still recovering from the Great War, Norway awoke after having a dream about that house, with a sudden yearning to return. He had always liked that house.

And as the early morning mist swirled around him, he found himself stood outside, looking up at it. It was a fairly small house, but it was tall and narrow, with big windows and a steep roof. Surrounded by pine forests, it was out of the way of the town and one wouldn't stumble across it by accident.

The rooms inside were spacious, if not large, and airy, and Norway watched the dust motes swirling through the air, in the light of the weak May sun shining through the window.

Each room was bringing back different memories, and he was filled with a strange sort of nostalgia, lovely and sad at the same time.

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe.

_It was only mid afternoon, and already the sun was beginning to set. It was cold outside, but the oven was heating the room nicely, and Halvard couldn't complain. He was preparing some trout he'd caught earlier for dinner, and he was quite looking forward to it. He was getting rather absorbed in his task, and so he jumped when he heard a voice._

"_What's for dinner?"_

_He nearly cut his hand with the knife, but steadied himself and replied without looking over his shoulder._

"_Trout."_

"_Fish again?" Berwald asked, his voice soft._

"_You like fish. Don't complain." Halvard replied, still concentrating on what he was doing. _

_He heard something from Berwald that he supposed was a chuckle as the taller man left him to it. He realised that he was smiling a little as he continued, and he wasn't sure why._

The room was empty now, the furniture having been removed. Only the old oven remained, a thick layer of dust coating the surfaces.

The fireplace in the living room seemed to be even more dusty, and Norway realised the room was a lot bigger without all the furniture in it. There was once a large sofa in the corner, the fabric having once been a deep red, though by the end of their union it was worn, the colour having faded in the sun.

_Halvard looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow. "Knitting? Really?"_

_Berwald looked up from his knitting and looked back at him, faintly embarrassed, and his stare hardened. "Nothin' wrong with it." He said_ _firmly._

"_Oh no, of course not." Sarcasm coloured Halvard's words, and he paused for a minute. "Very manly pastime."_

_Berwald scowled and Halvard smirked a little, and he returned to his reading. Comfortable silence fell between them again, the only noise being the crackle of the fire and the clicking of the knitting needles. _

_Curious, Halvard eventually looked over at him again. "What're you knitting?"_

_Berwald looked at him and raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'are you serious?'. Halvard rolled his eyes and went back to his book, though this time both of them were smiling. _

Norway wandered up the stairs, hearing the familiar creak of them under his feet. He went into the master bedroom, and was struck hard with memories. The bed had gone, though he had never expected it to remain. Sweden had carved the frame himself, intricate patterns running across the headboard. It had been a very nice bed, and Norway wondered where it had gone.

He went to look out of the window, to see what he could see through the pine trees.

_Halvard was gazing out of the window, his eyes still bleary from sleep. He yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and he rubbed his eyes. _

_Suddenly, arms wound around his waist, and a kiss was pressed to his cheek. "Mornin'." Berwald said softly, and Halvard just nodded and made a vague noise in response._

_He had never been a morning person. _

_Halvard looked away from the window, turning around in Berwald's arms to stare tiredly at him. Berwald looked back, curiosity reading across his face. "Breakfast?" He asked, but he received no answer, and there was silence between them. Eventually Berwald arched an eyebrow and said, "Good God, don't kill us with your enthusiasm."_

_Halvard smacked him on the arm and went back to bed._

Halvard stood in the middle of the room, at a loss as to what to do next. This house was bringing back so many memories, and he didn't know if he was glad of that or not. Of course, theirs had not been the best of unions, but it had certainly not been the worst. There had been some very happy times between them during the course of 1814 to 1905.

Halvard sighed a little, leaving the bedroom, walking back down the stairs.

He had always liked this house.

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><p><strong>Kristiania being, of course, the name for Norway's capital city before it was renamed Oslo in 1925. <strong>

**Hope you like it! ^^**


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